Night of Dissonace
by MojinR
Summary: The hero Emiya protects the world. The killer Satsujinki fights for his love. Fates and blades are crossed as they meet in a city swallowed by a bloody mist.
1. Emiya Side Story

Night of Dissonance

"I'm only here to save a girl."

"My sole existence is to save the world."

Emiya shot through the bloodstained mist like a demon bat in flight across the plains of hell. The perpetual, artificial, red night of the city was neither warm nor cool; an optimum moderate temperature was constant even as gale force wind brushed against his sun-darkened face.

The entire city was a picture painted from hell where the dead stalked the surface, marched through streets for flesh and blood driven by the most primal and primitive of craving of hunger. Crimson tainted clouds blotted out the sun, light granted only by streetlamps and buildings saved the city a death of absolute darkness.

Emiya bounded over rooftops, mouth filled with the taste of copper and acidic bile with each inhalation. The air tore at his blue cloak, the burial cloth that guarded him from world instead of foes, and frizzed his auburn hair that was slowly being dyed crimson by the mist. Calm amber eyes, reinforced with sorcery, scanned for survivors in concert with his other equally enhanced senses. None were found.

Part him thought of Kuro, his sidekick, and he glanced over his checking for any sign of the raven haired youth. He warned Kuro to stay beyond the town's parameter, outside the bloody fog that swallowed the city whole. But he knew Kuro was stubborn, like he was in his youth, and to some extent still was today.

Emiya had saved the child from a train derailed by collateral damage, the result of a battle between mages, nursed him to health when he was dying, then visited him every so often cause he knew the child had no family. He made the absent-minded slip of revealing to the boy he was hero, then fumbled an explanation by stating he was a magic-user. Now he owned a headache in the form a five-foot two teenage magus sidekick that possessed a greater talent for thaumaturgy than he had.

Rin never allowed him to hear the end of it. She actually wanted to instruct Kuro herself, even stated that with his caretaker's poor aptitudes Kuro was more equipped to teach Emiya than vise-versa. Emiya tried, several times in fact, to tempt Kuro away and shove him toward Tohsaka who was always doubly disappointed and sour when kid refused. Then again she always seemed sour nowadays, probably a portion her professor's sullen attitude transferred to her. Rin abhorred the man in all matter outside of lesson and the impression left on Emiya when first met was the same. He was a freaking otaku that hated the Japanese!

Pushing his thoughts aside Emiya studied city from several panoramic viewpoints, filtered through possible locations of the vampire's coffin, and shot for the area the fog was thickest: The town hall.

Emiya strode only halfway up the stairs of the front when he heard moaning, low and ominous at first then it grew into a threatening chorus. A throng of decaying corpses, no longer human or alive, was surrounding him; they lacked all qualities of sentient life. Parasites that were humans that feed on humans.

Release from their ruined shells prisoning the soul was the least he could offer them as a nameless hero.

He detached the ebon bow from his back and strummed the tough, braided cord. The instant a sword materialized in his palm the masses of dead sprung. A dozen cadavers descended on stairs, their violent impact crushing rows of concrete before they were crushed themselves by the shockwave of Astraeus' detonation.

For the dozen Emiya struck down with the Four Winds blade's, double the amount vaulted for him. His mind formed the image of Naegling-The Nailer-the sword that pierces like an arrow, then brought three pairs to his right hand. The modified sword-arrows punched holes in over a half the flying corpses, the others continued their path lacking limbs or chucks of flesh. Emiya whirled, his bow grabbed like staff and sliced the skull of first with bladed edge of the weapon; the others mirrored the fate of the first.

Nameless, fameless, noble phantasms came to Emiya's hand and one after another they were fired explosively at the world below. Portions of concrete sidewalk, parking lot asphalt, and brass statues shattered fire of their structures. In the time it took Emiya to land in a smoldering depression of concrete, he had transformed the area in front of the staircase on into a crater-ridden warzone.

Emiya slid the bow into its leather holster and inhaled the air briefly freed from the blood-mist. It smelt like charred flesh and smoke, yet in comparison to copper-tasting haze it was revitalizing.

The dense black smoke whirled open like a portal to the netherworld, assorted Ghouls emerged from beyond dense plumes and surrounded Emiya. Three lunged from different directions, but Emiya was already spinning as the architecture for Bakuya and Kanshou formed his grasp. The sibling broad swords flowed in a deadly series of circles creating a parameter of blood splatter.

More corpses rushed him, more died at the edge of white blade and its polar opposite twin, only one entered the parameter beyond the lethal rotations slaughtering his kin as they charged. Emiya's boot caught the corpse eater at the abdomen and two halves shot pass him as the body snapped.

Soon Emiya only heard the sound of his blades cutting blood-laden space around him. Surely he couldn't have dispatched them all? There were hundreds, probably thousands, of residents that were sure to be walking dead; he'd only exterminated about a hundred or just over.

Emiya spied one more out the corner of his trained eye, like a scout catching the glint of a sniper's barrel, and responded with a dexterous throw of the Kanshou aimed to remove the thing's head.

He never expected it to freeze, still as stone, and burst into ashes prior to the blade reaching it.

Behind the shroud ash, uniformed in black like a shinobi and armed for combat with a knife, Emiya saw the profile of a man wrapping burial cloth over his eyes. His presence was one that would significantly alter this scenario before its conclusion.

Emiya dispersed the twin blades, liberated his bow and took aim at the potential foe.

"I doubt you're a survivor, so who are you?"

"Not an enemy." The man's tone was neutral despite his words. Emiya didn't slack his guard.

"Then you're here to eliminate the Dead Apostle."

"Among other things."

"Ah, the device." Emiya referred to a separate element to his mission. The nameless hero, born Emiya Shirou, tracked disturbances of supernatural natures; this case was no different.

Days ago Rin informed him of a Dead Apostle that enveloped the town in a bloody mist that the blotted the sun and contrived to create a sanctuary for the vampires. Rumored too was his goal to devise a method, a device or mystic code, which slaked bloodlust for vampire and bestowed an immunity to sunlight.

The church had tried, failed, and now licked their wounds in defeat after an encounter. Driven to action, he now pursued the creature's end and the destruction of its abominable creation; he assumed the man was here to the do same.

Until the man's stance stiffened and faced Emiya who felt the menacing stare hidden by the cloth. A second short blade, not unlike a ninjato, hung at his left hip. It likely wasn't for decoration.

"No. I'd appreciate it if you resigned the matter of device to me." Emiya's gaze hardened and the tension, electric and almost visible between them, increased several fold.

"Who are you? You never answered the question." The man's answer determined his fate.

"I'm not plotting anything nor will I harm anyone."

"Says the guy dressed like an assassin." Emiya leveled invisible crosshairs over the ninja's chest as the image of Cortana, the Sword of Mercy, amassed in his hand but he halted bringing it to his palm. "I'm going put you out for a while till I'm done."

"I can't consent to that. She needs this device."

"Who? A vampire?" The only beings that would require device to sate bloodlust and grant immunity to sunlight are the undead. The human was a servant for a vampire.

"I'm only here to save a girl."

"My sole existence is to the save the world." Cortana formed in palm. "You're here to take something from one vampire and place it right in the hands of another. I can't consent to that."

Cortana, a sword that offers mercy, refuses to kill, became an arrow that will never pierce. Released into mist like golden bolt, it streaked through the space the assassin once stood and planted itself into asphalt.

Emiya chased a blur, fought to match insane speeds with the bandage-eyed man, who seemed to deflect his sword-arrows like pebbles with his knife. The ninja paused, crouched with one hand touching cracked concrete like an awkward sprinting stance, and vanished with an arrow an inch from his head.

One instant the man was gone; the next Emiya deflected a silver arc traced at head. The impact against limb of his bow spun it the ebon weapon from his hand. Pain flared through Emiya's spine, his body felt dislocated from the ground, and as he soared upward the black ninja materialized above him solely to return Emiya to the earth with a solid kick.

Fragments of concrete stabbed into the rear of his white armor, his shoulder was sore and sensitive like kick had rubbed the skin from his flesh and left it raw. The pain, this soreness, will be reciprocated Emiya told himself as he started to rise then stopped as steel began to cut into the soft tissue around his neck.

"Stay down, hero." Emiya complied for the moment. He needed time strategize a counter for man's speed.

"You're stopping one vampire to enable another."

"You don't know her, so don't assume anything."

"Assumptions are dangerous in my line of work."

"And what line of work is that? Sacrificing life to protect life? Don't bullshit me hero."

Emiya had an idea. There was a sword that accommodated this situation.

"I've only killed two people in my life. How many have you murdered for your vampire bitch?" The sword's image lit in head.

"I only kill when forced. Only against the inhuman. Only when they've hurt the innocent."

"Then let us test your innocence." Light beamed in his right hand, blinding the ninja and allowed Emiya to swirl on back through the sharp shards and deliver boot to opponent.

Solidified in his hand was a blade of almost unequaled sharpness. Yet it never sliced the guiltless, sin-free innocents with pure intentions. If facing a murderous foe the sword cleaved clean through the soul. Salvation was only endowed by the opponent's designs.

With the skill of an ancient kenjutsu master and the speed of a bullet train Emiya was upon the ninja working him to a defensive posture. Flashing, fluid movements flowed from his body like a river, but each stroke was repelled or diverted with slightest motions of the knife blade. This assassin maneuvered with a grace that wasted nothing as he parried the katana time and time again until he retreated with a back step.

The length advantage of the blade to the knife in conjunction with streaming movements disallowed a chance for countering. It was almost flawless not including simple fact Emiya couldn't land a blow either. He'd honestly been trying too, but the defenses were difficult to exploit and he didn't have time to strategize before the knife-wielder rushed him again.

Emiya swung to meet knife's arc and watched, astonished, as the single slash multiplied into seven. He couldn't even see his opponent's arms, only the flashing mirage of steel while he struggled to compete. The two stood firm; their whirling blades clashed together mimicking the cacophony machine-gun fire as an airless vacuum grew between them.

Emiya was so intent on matching speed he was completely offset when the ninja hooked back of the katana with the back of his knife. The man slid inside, and beyond, the range of the long sword, grappled Emiya by the cloak and rolled the hero's world on its head.

The ninja's weight and the throw's momentum melded together and compressed Emiya's ribcage, squashed his lungs to relinquish all the air they detained, and ground his back into pile brass chunks.

Twice in this match Emiya ended on his back, glaring at the roof the bloody shroud possessing the town. Damned if there was going to be a third. Emiya sprung up and glared at the man, through the man, and beyond town hall behind him and saw the victory he could grasp.

Masamune's tip scraped the floor, Emiya flung his body into rotation, and the world appeared like fruit being diced in a blender. Prana poured into the blade, overfilled it, and glowed around in lavender hue until Emiya swung a lateral layer of energy slammed into his opponent.

The impact of the body through the double doors diminished them splintered and the wave sliced halfway into the sturdy structure then vanished as the building shuttered to its foundation. When Emiya was inside he saw the destruction he had induced. The reception room was no more, a clean saw-line divided the upper and lower six feet of room. The receptionist's Oakwood desk was shattered, paintings stripped from scarred walls, statuette heads rolled around on floor like they were scouring for their bodies; it was just a mess.

Emiya entered the public hall and paused as cold spires pricked down his spine. The blood-mist was dense inside it felt like threading through sludge with every motion and to top that off the assassin was nowhere in plan sight; not good. His intuitions flared like premonition, a glance into future later Emiya whirled his blade overhead to swat aside the knife's blade descending upon him.

The ninja bounded in midair, clung to the wall like spider, then launched off like ballistic missile for Emiya. Steel met and the hero's superior strength overwhelmed the assassin's superior speed and compressed the knife-wielder through cinder blocks and out the opposite side of the wall.

Emiya pursued him through the hole, slashed at him with Masamune and scored a clean hit to the shoulder. The sword didn't cut; the mystical properties blunted the blade before impact and instead almost crushed the joint. The ninja crumpled to the floor with a cry. Was it possible he was telling the truth? His intentions, pure and virtuous, saved him from Masamune's edge; he couldn't refute this.

"Sorry about this." Emiya raised the sword for the final strike. The man muttered something like a profanity then in space it took Emiya to bring blade down tore the cloth from his eyes and slashed upwards cleaving the Noble Phantasm in half.

What. The. Fuck?!

A snap kick to the kneecap buckled the hero and fist crammed into face propelled him back into the public hall the way he came. Emiya traced another Noble Phantasm. The ninja sliced it two. Emiya traced his bow and had sundered into twigs and twine by crisscrossing arcs of the knife blade. Emiya stepped away with each fresh attempt at tracing a weapon only to have it destroyed an instant later by the man. His back soon hit a solid pillar pinning him between it and the knife-wielding death-dealer in front him.

"Stop that." The ninja commanded. Emiya obeyed. The hero gazed into the man's cool, cobalt stare and swore for instant he stared at death itself.

"Going to kill me?" Emiya asked.

"I wish."

"So do I." A third party stated from atop the second floor railing. Both the man turned to face the third man, dressed in a suit so red he almost camouflaged into the mist. He didn't need an introduction, both knew who he was. The Dead Apostle that orchestrated the massacre of the town.

"Oh, how rude of me, my name is Poral, architect of this Crimson City." The suited vampire dropped down to first floor not even twenty feet from where Emiya and the ninja stood.

"No need for introduction from you Mr. Killer." The Dead Apostle flashed a wicked hint of fangs. "Every socialite of the twilight knows your titles and occupations; Assassin of the White Princess, Death God, Satsujinki, Shadow of Death, Reaper King and so on and so forth. A mere mortal that mastered death in a method which kills individuals and objects that posses no life to take."

"Satsujinki? You're that guy?" Emiya's jaw almost hit the floor. He had heard him, a human that slew Dead Apostles along side last True Ancestor. This guy was feared by many in church's top twenty-seven hit list. Emiya felt like a stubborn, childish idiot now.

"Yeah but those titles are just...annoying. Call me Shiki."

"Emiya." He responded.

"So you two have reconciled now? Now I assume the plot is teaming up on me destroying my cauldron."

"Cauldron?" Emiya hadn't heard of any cauldron but didn't take long for him to put things together.

"Yes, a thaumaturgical device. As a tool it creates an area where Dead Apostles can survive without consuming blood and where there is no fear of sunlight."

"Shit, you mean this fucking mist of blood?!" Shiki yelled at Poral.

"Exactly. From your reaction you're disappointed. I guess the rumors of the True Ancestor's condition are true. Your master is out of commission; suppressing her blood lust is too strenuous. Poor servant."

"Shut the fuck up." Shiki told him.

"Just to rub the salt into wound I'll explain something to you." Poral ran his finger through his hair and began to approach them with a sulky, confident stride. Both stood on their guard.

"My cauldron won't cure your master's condition. In fact, it might worsen it. The psychological drive for blood is like a libido gone berserk; it's all in her head. It won't mentally satisfy her so there is no point. The miasma my cauldron creates only suppresses the bloodlust of those that physiologically require it." Poral said and gave another grin.

"Even then, even if it could help her, you don't have the fortitude to use it. The cauldron's fuel for miasma...what do you suppose it is?"

"...You sick bastard." Emiya traced Kanshou and Bakuya to his hands and charged the Dead Apostle in full sprint.

"Humans." Poral spoke then his form dissipated like vapors. The next instant Emiya heard what sounded like steel cleaving stone. He whipped around and Shiki was rolling across the floor, the solid pillar he was once pinned against was sliced through like a bread loaf and Poral floated in the air then swooped in like dive bomber on his new ally.

Emiya traced his bow one instant then Hrunting the next. A process normally under two seconds was like an eternity as he observed Shiki debarring a rain of clawed strikes. Each jab was less than a heartbeat apart, even with Shiki's skills and preternatural athletic ability the difference in speed was frightening. Prodding, shallow wounds littered Shiki's body without blood; there was no time for a single wound to bleed before Poral had inflicted ten more to accompany it. Emiya saw the desperation in his eyes and barely waited for Hrunting to materialize before he let it fly.

Poral retreated and slapped the phantasmal bolt away and followed Shiki; behind him Hrunting had righted itself and was pursuing him doggedly. Shiki darted up a wall, vaulted the second floor walkway in his path, Poral shredded it to ribbons with his claws before demolishing with blunt impact as chased the boy.

Shiki sprung wall just before ceiling made a series of flitting leaps between several pillars. Scant moments later they were rumble compliments of the Dead Apostle's imperfect aim. The acrobat landed on the last column, hung affixed for a moment as grabbed the short blade Emiya noticed early, opened his mouth as if to holler from some ailment only to vanish much to Emiya's and Poral surprise.

Two screams reverberated through hall at once. One was Poral's cry as Hrunting staked him in shoulder. The Dead Apostle failed to detect the tenacious noble phantasm pursuing him as he pursued his target. The second was Shiki's voice but the man himself stood right beside him, mouth closed. He was sweaty, panting and wore but silent. The cry sounded like someone screaming after napalm was injected into their veins; Shiki make an amazing ventriloquist if do that while gasping the way he was.

"Shit! You maggot!" Poral howled then grasped for the wicked, black phantasmal thorn in his shoulder but never touched it; his arm came undone at the bicep. The appendage toppled nonoperational on to a pile of shattered sheet rock. With a dismal gaze he stared at his stub, neither bleeding nor regenerating in shock.

"Damn, I missed." Shiki said.

"Me too." Emiya grimaced for moment. "What were you aiming for?"

"Decapitation, you?"

"The heart."

Emiya and Shiki shot one another an affirmative glance then returned to Poral who was...sobbing.

"You, you, deviants! Monstrosities! Fiends!" Poral roared with tears streaming down his face.

"The irony, huh?" Emiya said lightly and positioned his sights on Dead Apostle.

"You're worse than mother! That cursed loli and her mangy mutt!" Poral flew to the ground and gave duo a look absolute contempt, then channeled that emotion into his fist and buried it elbow through the ceramic tile and debris. "I'll demonstrate to you two first, later she will receive the treatment. NOW COME!! DEVOUR CAULDRON!!"

Veins grew throughout the ceramic starting from Poral's arm and webbed outward in a dynamic array. The floor, bloated and pregnant, swelled with a growing mound while the walls shuddered in pain with erupting foundation going through birthing. Tiny chips of paneling peppered room with from above in the preamble to its collapse.

"I suggest we evacuate. Quickly." Shiki said, his eyes darting madly at the crumbling space.

"Yeah," Emiya responded. "You try get as far away from this building as possible." A sword came to his mind; A blade cloaked in crimson flames.

"How far is far?"

Emiya contemplated for a moment then said "Twenty-no, thirty meters or more from entrance." Shiki only cocked his brow in response before another foreboding tremor and a slab of ceiling panel smashing into floor prompted his speedy withdrawal.

"Fleeing like rats? Like roaches before the light? Ha!" The floor flaked away like a egg shell and piece by piece revealed a throbbing, semi-organic, semi-mechanical, oily black dome protruding through ground.

Emiya boots dug for a firm balance and bent his knees, power built in legs and thigh like tightly compressed springs before release. In one, herculean leap Emiya crashed through roof, out of the building and beyond the bloodstained veil of city.

The night air was cool and refreshing to his body. Emiya inhaled in it wholeheartedly without reservations. The stars winked at him as he soared toward them, almost intimately in a way but distant all the same. This break spanned all but the briefest of seconds before Emiya whirled his attention to the world below.

A great blade, fashioned by the dwarfs of finest materials pillaged from mother earth. The surface gleamed with an otherworldly crimson glow, its edges white hot, the sides burned amber and the tip beamed brighter than at stellar spirit in the void of space. The hilt, dressed in blood leather, artfully carved and designed for durability and grip, bridged the guard and pommel. The pommel, weighted for absolute balance, was a similar to a glass fruit. The interior brimmed with angry flames that crashed against the crystal clear shell with ferocity of the raging sea.

RAGNAROK - SWORD THAT CREMATES THE WORLD

Emiya's circuits ignited, prana cycled through his system as the sorcerous process began. Graduation Air; Tracing, both names for the identical spell of creating something from nothing. His talent in this single ability was so great he could create Noble Phantasms with their history and soul intact then alter them into arrows. He was the best there was at it.

Ragnarök, modified to a angular, aerodynamic design, pressed against the thread of his bow for moment. Shirou envisioned his target in his mind and the arrow piercing the mist then connecting. An instant latter, he made it a reality.

**Emiya Side End**


	2. Shiki Side Story

**Shiki Side Start**

Shiki wasn't certain of the distance he put between himself and the town hall, but if the chill of death sprinting down his spine was a sign, he wasn't far enough yet. He covered at least another ten meters before his urge to check behind overrode his better judgment to do the opposite.

A red comet, deeper and angrier than the blood tainted air, plummeted from another world outside the mist. A great tail of yellow, blue and orange followed the blistering head of the falling star. Shiki could scarcely imagine the detonation that thing would generate on impact.

In fact, he didn't want to find out.

Jumping into a nearby available window Shiki scoured for protective cover but, between limited time and panic the assassin opted to brace himself behind a bathtub. This was insane, he could survive direct combat with an vampire equal to one of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, but he might die from friend-fire thanks to a wanna-be hero. It appeared his luck with bothersome individuals wasn't limited solely to women.

The house was hit with a shock front that rattled the foundation and peeled the roof clean from the clean from the structure. Orange light flared through the world so brightly Shiki saw it through closed eyes. After the first boom, the air was ringing, or at least his ears were and nothing else was heard for the next several minutes. But he was still acutely aware of the destruction occurring to the environment.

The air rippled with enough heat that if he thought to inhale any time soon his lungs and throat could be mistaken for charcoal when someone retrieved his corpse. Shiki dared not raise his head an inch either; he still felt the burning debris slung by the explosion shooting over his hair. Vaguely, he guessed about half the house was left somewhat intact.

The damage in the wake of Emiya's tactic of mass devastation spanned the entire town. Shiki stood among the burning rubble of the bathroom and could see the flames blanketing the city. Whatever method hero-boy used, it transformed the blood-mist hell into a fiery one. Speaking of the blood mist, it was strangely absence.

The possibility of Poral being incinerated, however high, needed confirmation. Covered in sweat, scars and burns Shiki headed for the flame drenched epicenter as fast his body would allow. A pool of fire filled the sunken crater marking the impact zone and from the edges Shiki could see the lines behind the wall of flames. The sickly black veins of Poral, alive and more powerful than he once was. His concept of death was minimal, still far more killable than Arcueid, but nonetheless lessened.

The question of how this was possible only entered his brain a few moments prior to the Dead Apostle, in flex of newfound power, exploded with gale force winds. Knocked backwards, Shiki skidded and dug for traction against the hurricane assault. Wild winds torn at his injured form and just as he felt himself buckle it was calmed.

Unfazed by the city-leveling attack Poral reigned atop his monstrous device shrouded in a wispy, carmine aura. In his hand, held above him like the scepter of a king, was a tool only vaguely familiar: A wicked, edged, arrow-blade fusion. Shiki's memory failed him at the moment but, he only had the briefest of instances to gaze upon it before it shattered in the Dead Apostle's grasp.

"Is that all?" A maniacal, insane laughter erupted from the vampire clearly drunk on his own power. "Behold, Death God, the true form of the Crimson Mist! No, behold my true form! Now ten-fold stronger, death doesn't exist for me! Witness a being beyond the existence of any immortal denizen of darkness! Gaze upon a god!"

Almost true, Shiki thought. His concept of death had receded significantly, but system of death still clung to Poral in the form of a thin, semi-transparent network woven across his body. The tricky part, as usual, was reaching the death of his opponent without himself dying first.

"Death exists in everything," Shiki retorted, his hand slipping to the hilt of the alchemic, short sword. "Even gods." Thin filaments sprang from the hilt, slithered into Shiki's flesh. Fire swam over his nerves threatening to strip his conscious from the assassin's grasp. Commanding the pain to fade, Shiki faced his opponent sweating profusely. A single dropped ran over his eye.

He blinked. Poral vanished.

Shiki dropped low, letting the explosion of air from the vampire's movement wash over him and dodging the clawed thrust aimed where his chest once was. A silver band arced towards a black line on Poral's torso. Before the assassin's flashing blade connected a blurred shoe forced him meters away.

Although he moved his head, avoiding an impact that would have guillotined it clean off, the dislocation of air had him soaring free a few feet from the earth. The modified Vorpal Blade plunged into the melted asphalt halting Shiki's flight just before the gust of Poral's passing sliced at his left arm.

Vorpal Blade Mk. II, a weapon crafted by an alchemist that released limiters on an individual forcing the human body to function physically at a level surpassing its natural limitations. With this tool the demon hunter could match Dead Apostles. Even surpass some. The price was steep though. In exchange for superhuman speed, endurance, and stamina the body is broken down as if by cancer, destroying the wielder. The affects weighted heavily on the wielder over time as Shiki began to experience.

Internally, Shiki battled the fatigue within his body bidding him to stop and rest. External, he weathered of storm of Poral's mad charges. Shiki was fast, with the alchemic blade he was impossibly so for a human, but Poral displayed the difference clearly. Each uncontrolled rush of Poral's tore asphalt from the ground and spat it to the sky. His a raw power and speed towered beyond any achievement mere human skills could muster.

Finally, the demon hunter's body rejected his command. His left leg stood still, weak and weary, denying Shiki the ability to sidestep the blow. Desperately, he lashed outward and threw himself into Poral's charge. The blade rode along the vampire's claws till the hilt tore from his grasp. The blow slipped over shoulder, but the hurricane-like charge alleviated Shiki's weight from the ground and flung him sideways through heated rubble.

Poral was on him once more, clawed death leading his rush toward the assassin. Shiki thought of drawing his knife, but it was futile. There were no lines on Poral's hand to cut, should he even possess the ability to, and dodging the strike to reach the line on his arm was impossible. All he could do was stare as the manus filled his world before everything exploded into red, gory chunks.

"Is almost dying another ability of yours?" A voice asked ringing with sarcasm.

Shiki wiped the gore-splatter from his eyes. Poral, stood away from Shiki sputtering curses as his arm regenerated. His eyes traced along the ground and saw the wicked, angular sword-arrow fused into the floor, then over his shoulder towards hero-boy who possessed a bow in hand and a smirk on his face.

Shiki shook his head at the man's timing. Although he speculated on the deliberateness, the result was a little dramatic for a reentry.

Shiki glanced at Shirou then back at his weapon. An affirmative nod later from the archer and the demon hunter bolted off towards the Vorpal Blade.

Poral hesitated, his gaze darted from Shiki's blade, to the Death God, to Shirou unsure of which to charge. Seeing the demon hunter closing the gap on his goal, Poral bolted decisively, but ultimately incorrectly, at Shiki.

Arrows rained in front of the Dead Apostle cutting him off, then upon him. A red torrent of energy flashed from his palm and swallowed the projectiles. More sword-arrows descended upon him then, he thought it more prevalent to assault the bowman atop the ruined structure. Unfortunately, he realized this all too late, to stop Shiki.

The Vorpal Blade was at home again, in Shiki's grasp as he burst into a wild dash back towards vampire. An old fire burned in his eyes, one that reminded him of younger days, before his training, when he relied on the murderous, efficient, instinctual nature inside himself. Everything appeared slower now, even Poral as he charged with the same furious storm-like charge as before. However, things were different now; the situation and Shiki had changed.

A sword-bolt plunged into the vampire's elbow but stubbornly Poral continued, swiping at Nanaya's head he closed in. The demon hunter ducked, stilled pushing forward and cut at Poral with the short blade. Breaking his momentum the vampire danced to the side, and believed he had the assassin where he was wanted. His clawed hand thrust out for Nanaya simultaneously as the Nanatsuyoru darted for tiny black dot on his chest. Sensing a trap at the last instant, Poral retreated in a violent gust.

Shiki face was painted red from the countless cuts amassed from suffering through the cutting gale produced by rapid movement. His body felt like it might burn to ashes from heat or topple in a heap from weariness. Yet, the Death God stared Poral down with a confidence immeasurably larger than the vampire's shaky one.

"Damn you! It's because there are two of you!" Poral spat and grimaced as if both them saw through the excuse. "I'll just have to even the odds. Second Spell, DIVIDE!"

When Poral's form turned into brilliant crimson silhouette both warriors readied themselves. Neither knew what to think though, when the red shadow splintered into nine additional forms creating ten apparitions. A moment later, all of them solidified into ten different, but identical Porals.

"Ha!" They laughed in unison. "Even with only my original power, there are now ten of me and two of you! Five to one, Death God and nameless bowman, the odds favor me!"

The synchronicity of the group, amazed Shiki. He knew all of them were unique, the lines on each Poral were different, but they all moved as if controlled by a single mind. The thought of testing the theory was interesting, but he couldn't single out the "original" from the lot. The assassin opted to retreat for Shirou's position, but as he closed in he saw the red hair mouth words inaudible due to the rushing air. Upon arrival he heard them clearly.

"Hold them off. Or at least stale as many as you can." Shiki's eyebrow arched in confusion, but without any time to argue he let it be and turned to face the charging group. He hoped his temporary partner had devised a plan. As the demon hunter rushed back towards the group seven words rang out that sent a shudder through the world itself.

"**I am the bone of my sword..."**

A trio of Porals deviated from the the pack, possibility to flank the Archer but, Shiki didn't have time to engage them. The remaining seven held his full attention as they began unleashing rolling torrents of crimson energy at him.

Darting in between the blasts was extremely difficult. Every blast fired led him into the path of another. After several close calls, Shiki found himself pincered by wall of blasts that balked his evasion. With no choice, he narrowed his focus on the beam in front of him and thrust forward "killing" the energy wave in front of him. His head pulsed, threatening to explode if he attempted the feat a second time. As Shiki met the first Poral another utterance seemed rumbled the earth.

"**Steel is my body and fire is my blood..."**

The vorpal blade slashed at one of the mimics and would have cleave him in two if another hadn't flanked Shiki and fired a blast to save his brethren. The assassin danced away and sliced downward at the skull of the nearest foe, only to have another ward it away with claws. Before he could follow through with his knife, Shiki was struck in side by yet another foe and sent skidding.

"**I have created countless blades..."**

They swarmed Shiki's down form from every angle. Forced, the demon hunter pushed the limits of the Vorpal Blade's enhancing abilities. His knife and short sword whirred into an array of steely light. The frenzy of slashes deflected the claws and sliced wildly, imprecisely, into the vampires. They didn't kill anything, but still served their purpose. The coincident pack bounced away and Shiki bolted for Shirou once more.

"**Unaware of loss or gain..." **The nameless hero spoke and deflected a nailed thrust aimed at his head. Kanshou spun around to hack into the side of the vampire mimic. The sword arm was suddenly flung wildly to losing its grip on the broad sword after a blast slammed into Shirou's forearm.

His amber eyes blazed and Bakuya, the sister sword, snapped out twice as fast and embedded itself into the shoulder of a clone. Hero-boy clutched at his wounded limb and Shiki was upon his partner's assailants in a instant; Shiki's seven other foes were there an instant later.

"Are you alright?" Shiki managed to blurt out in between the exchange blows with several Porals.

"**The pain withstood to protect this world..."**

Shiki, distracted at what he believed to an incomplete response, never detected the crimson volley hurled at the side of his head. Shirou sprung up, pulled the assassin out of harm's way with his injured arm and tossed him below. Landing in the first-story corner of the destroyed structure, Shiki glanced back up to see Shirou sustain a swipe to his side and return with a desperate kick to dislodge the foe long enough to join him at the nook of the room.

All ten Porals descended down behind Shirou and fanned out to trap the duo in corner.

"Dammit! Hero-boy, if you've got a plan-!" Shiki cursed and Shirou threw his palm forward and with a blinding flare of light six, large, flowering shields of energy were erected between them and the gang of Porals.

"**Will never hold any regret for me..."**

The mimics rushed the petals futilely in rapid succession and Shiki breathed easy till he saw all of them begin to form a single, extensive, sphere of crimson energy. Unsure of whether the magic shield could endure a blast from the collective group Shiki looked a Shirou for an answer, who was too far gone into his own world to notice or care.

"**All I am is..." **

The ball of energy appeared ready and posed to be launched. Shiki might be able to kill it, if Shirou removed the shield. If he focused again, his brain would be fried, and he'd die.

Ultimately, Shiki simply prepared himself for whatever cards fate dealt him. Unbeknown to him, the hand dealt was a royal flush about to unfold.

"**...**_**Unlimited Blade Works**_**."**

The moment crimson sphere smashed the prismatic petals of Rho Aias a wall of fire exploded from Shirou and swallowed reality, no, rejected it and substituted the hero's. The world Shiki gazed upon was unlike anything he had seen before.

The luminance of dawn stretched from the heavens in every direction. Above overhead, among the clouds, hung monolithic pearly gears frozen in time. A white mist floated gently across barren plains that ran forever, but there was nothing here. Nothing, until Shirou snapped his fingers. The gears gyrated, cranking only once, but then from the clouds came a sight Shiki had to pinch himself to believe.

Swords. Billions of them.

An infinite number of weaponry poured from the clouds as if they were drops of rain. The vampires scattered to avoid the bombardment. Uncharacteristically, some tried to shield themselves while others darted around evading the shower. One, however, couldn't. He was impaled through a leg, then again through his arm, and then over a dozen times in other places until his twitching body was utterly nailed to the ground.

"Poral!" Shirou called. "You now face us on a hill of infinite and magnificent weaponry. These," He plucked a sword from the earth. "Are the finest swords in all the world throughout history. Even if you divided yourself into a million, there are enough blades here to skewer each a thousand times over."

The group hesitated as they eyed the body of their brethren. Shirou did not.

Shiki followed the swordsman the best he could, but swords zipped about the world seemingly everywhere. The Porals failed to regroup, to organize and strategize in any coherent form. So one by one, they were eliminated on the hill of swords. More often by a flying swarm of phantasmal blades or by Shirou swordsmanship. Only two had their existences erased completely as Shiki stabbed their dots. Eight died between the two warriors and then only one, shuddering, and stuttering, original remained.

"T-t-h-hhis, c-c-can't b-b-be. I-I w-w-was, to surpass everyone. M-m-m-other and her mutt, they were wrong! I-I-I'm not worthless! I'll transcend her, the True Ancestor, the world, even God!" Poral's wild eyes suddenly gained focus. "Even death!"

The vampire made one last, hopeless dash for Shiki. Shirou's swarm of sword were enroute before the Dead Apostle even closed half the gap, but the assassin bolted to meet the creature. The blade sank into Poral's dot and vampire sputtered to a halt.

"I'm not death." Shiki said into deaf ears. "I'm a just man that fights for the one I love."

Poral's body cracked like the shell of an egg and flaked off into a hundred pieces. Each was carried on a wind towards oblivion.

The reality marble ended and reality took its rightful rein back. Shirou dropped to a knee and waved Shiki's aid aside. Both looked back towards the Devour Cauldron.

Shiki approached the abominable creation and saw the dot on the side. He weighed all that he felt against each other. Inside he knew part of him wanted to take it and use it despite Poral's statement. Even against world, Arcueid outweighed everything on Shiki's scale. As he thrust blade into the dot, he knew Arcueid would never accept her life at the expense of humans no matter how Shiki felt. She was just that kind of troublesome woman; the kind he'd sacrifice the world for.

As the cauldron faded, the sun peeked over the horizon. The night was over, and with a new day, a new ally and a renewed promise the dissonance was swept away by the light of morning.

**Night of Dissonance End**


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

Although it had been several months since the Vesper Town Incident, also called the Crimson Mist Siege, Rin remembered clearly the day he returned. Luvia had come bursting into her dorm room like she leading an assault team on a raid. Rin, fresh, clean but still wet from her shower, was only an scant instant from blowing the intruder's head off with a cluster of Gandr Shot before she said Shirou was in hospital. Students wouldn't forget that day either; no one had ever observed a school idol, even in such fast motion, bolting through the halls in a red towel.

Shirou wasn't severely injured. Exhausted, yes, and his arm was badly burnt, but given the other things she'd seen Shirou survive the wounds were trivial. Rin only fretted over them till the nurse explained her apprentice would be fine. Immediately, she berated him and was going follow into an extend tirade but stopped as Shirou pointed out her nudity, as she'd apparently lost her towel in the few seconds it took to reach the healing center.

Wounds weren't the worst of the consequences in the wake of the Shirou's heroic return from the incident. The faker was now a target of both the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors and the Church. Although the clergymen didn't need reason in their book wage war against sorcerous heretics, they justified their pursuit with the fact Shirou destroyed an entire town in addition withholding information concerning another heretic Shirou met during the incident.

The tale of the streaking idol lived on for many years, and so did Tosaka's embarrassment.

Shirou remained elusive, both to the church and to Tosaka that was always trying to pin him down for a serious conversation. By all means, they were an item, but she felt as if she was still his second choice. On the occasions her lover did return he was frequently accompanied by the legendary Apostle killer, which she later came to know as Shiki-kun. Reserved, calm, and, surprisingly enough for someone considered a master of death, had a great appreciation for life.

In brief times Rin conversed with Shiki she found him interesting. Normally, he was a lively talker, sometimes assisting Rin in her teasing of Shirou. Occasionally, an honest, blunt, meddling comment wound depart from his mouth. She remembered a day when the three of them even up taking about family members. Shiki, like her Shirou, didn't have any biological family left. He said he wasn't at all unsatisfied because he'd found another. Then he asked, almost nonchalantly, "So Shirou, when are you going to knock her up and make your own family?"

Tea launched in a clean arc from Rin's mouth to Shirou's shirt completely drenching his chest. Rin stammered out string of gibberish that might be sound like an explanation or a complaint to a trained ear. Even she was unsure of which it was and whom it was directed towards.

The noise subsided and the jewelry magus had sunken in her chair, blushing and sulking, cutting down both men with her eyes. Shirou, equally embarrassed, slumped his face into his palms. Shiki smiled. Mission Accomplished.

Kuro, oddly enough, accepted Tosaka's offer to become her pupil. He stated something it about her training not requiring he have a life insurance policy.

Shiki still sought the cure for Arcueid's bloodlust. However the path love can lead one down is often far from where one intended. The extremes the demon hunter would traverse for the vampire princess is story for another day.


End file.
